I cannot express in the language of the logical entailment my love for you, the
        second person plural
on the perennial verge of existence, like color almost becoming surface
I reach for a verb that isn’t there but experience its shape, then back-form a
        phantom subject
with whom I identify, walking through the park at night

There is nothing more beautiful than a vulnerable grid
glowing in late empire, which is how I think of you 

(Ben Lerner)